One quick note before we get to Josh’s post – we love running guest posts from other folks, and if you’d like to write for us you should drop us a line.

Anyhow, thanks Josh!

The Modern Day Gong Show

Nothing creates a modern day gong show faster than two words –

“Fish On”

Picture yourself on the steelhead river of your choice, or salmon river for that matter. Most of the day is spent in the languid tranquility of cast, mend, swing, step and repeat. Your brain is on autopilot as the process repeats time and time again.

It’s as if you’re enveloped in your surroundings. Your boots are as connected with the river as the stones you’re standing on.

And with that all hell breaks loose.

“Fish On”

No matter who you’re with, these words create the ultimate 5 alarm fire amongst the people you’re fishing with. Snap your head around in time to see your buddy connected with a silver ghost and you know you have to get your ass out of the pool and direct traffic. In other words, create more confusion.

Reel up as fast as you can and assemble next to the lucky guy and begin barking instructions. No matter how good the fisherman is, it always seems like you have some nugget of info that is going to “help” them bring the fish to the bank.

No, side pressure. Flip the side. Don’t let it get into the fast water. So on and so forth. It’s a maddening scene for sure, especially for the guy who has to listen to all the instructions.

Amongst the bank crew, there’s that time in the battle where you look at each other to determine who’s going to draw the short straw to see who’s going to tail the fish.

Want to get the silent treatment for the rest of your fishing day? Mess up tailing a big fish. Don’t even try to make peace because you have been shunned.

It brings me back to the fish that will haunt my dreams for eternity.

Fishing the famous waters of the Olympic Peninsula of Washington State with my father, I hooked into the biggest winter steelhead in my life. After hooking up, I knew that this was going to be in the 15-20 pound class. In an instant, the gigantic hen was off to the races pulling me downstream at an alarming rate. And next to my shoulder, my dad was rattling off a constant stream of “wisdom”.

Don’t let it get into the rapids – you’ll lose it.

Noooo, don’t do that.

Take your time.

Oh, thanks for those nuggets of wisdom Dad.

Somehow, I fought that fish to a stalemate that was akin to two boxers taking the best punches the other could give. As I gained the upper hand and brought it into the shallows for the endgame, the fly pulled out.

My dad and I both looked at each other as if we were kicked in the nuts at the same time.

Think about it, you spend all day trying to get a connection and when you do you come tight it’s an all out assault on your ability to control the situation.

From the depths the fish is kicking your ass and next to you your buddies are cheering you on. Or on the other hand, criticizing the hell out of you.

Seems like it’s a miracle that you even land the fish, right?

Given the choice, I’ll take the gong show. There’s something special about the camaraderie when everyone descends on the lucky angler. Whether you’re the guy who’s battling the fish or you’re part of the peanut gallery, you’re an integral part of what makes fishing for steelhead and salmon special.

Josh is back today with a writeup on something we all experience – the anticipation of going fishing!

Thanks, Josh.

The Buildup

Gigantic gear piles assemble at your door and it begins to look like you’re outfitting an expedition to Mars. The truth of the matter is you’re only rolling out for 2 days.

You run around your house like a madman looking for lost items. You become absolutely sure that your wife, your dog and your fishing buddies are in a multi-level conspiracy to hide your nymph boxes or your lucky fishing hat. You left your wading jacket right there, didn’t you and that a-hole dog must have eaten your backup eight weight.

The fifteenth time you check the stream flow it shows the same thing, a level graph. Technology has given anglers the ability to forecast, to see into the future and see from afar what the rivers are doing. It still will never take away the anxiety of anticipation you feel when you crest the hill for the first time and your eyeballs fix on the true, real time color of the flow.

Your menu has been planned for 3 days. For the first time, actual vegetables have been assigned to members of your fishing crew. How many times have you shown up, peeked into coolers only to find you have a mixture of sandwich meats, steak, chicken and sausage along with piles of bad beer? That concoction does wonders on the digestive system. Time to get some fiber, bro – fiber.

Extra Ibuprofen is part of the luggage for mornings when your head will be a bit, let’s say…foggy.

Time for the fourth round of double checking to make sure you won’t leave something behind. Chances are you won’t realize that you’ve left something until you actually need it. It’s just the way it works.

A fitful night of sleep is ahead of you. An hour here, an hour there and a whole lot of staring at the clock. Finally you’ve had enough and it’s go time.

There is absolutely nothing better than the night before a big fishing trip. That anticipatory feeling can make a guy feel just this side of giddy. It’s like when you’re a single man and you’re working up the nerve to hit on the hottest girl in the bar. The build up and the foreplay only serve to make the main act more special, if you know what I mean.

What can be always trumps what wasn’t. That’s why I love the night before.

Josh sent us a really original, meaningful guest post – a letter to his not-yet-born son. We loved it.

Thanks so much Josh!

Letter to My Son

I get to meet my new best friend in a week,

My first born;

My first born son.

Half of the emotion is the excitement of anticipation, the other half is a deer in headlights I am scared as hell but here we go feeling. Either way about it, he’s coming to join us like it or not.

I have lived a life so far with an extremely strong connection to the outdoor world. With an understanding mother and a father who lives to hunt and fish, my path in the outdoors was spoken for at very early age. Thank goodness I have a very, very understanding and patient wife.

The transference of being fish crazy wasn’t a hard sell for me at any point in my life. My father and I have been joined at the hip for as long as I can remember. From quietly waiting for a trout to take the bait as a toddler to today waiting for the elusive yank of a steelhead, fishing is deeply ingrained within my life. Taking up a fly rod a decade ago was a galvanizing event in my life and I haven’t looked back.

So it’s this impending change that has me thinking about what I am excited to share with my son, in a fishy, outdoorsy sense. The rest of this is written directly to him and I hope someday when he reads this, all these wishes have come true, or he aspires to make them happen. I hope you enjoy.

—

Photo: Josh Mills

You’re about to join us, and it’s time to cast the net to the future to harness a bright future for you, whatever path you take. First and foremost, I wish for your health and happiness but I would be lying if I didn’t have a few other things I am excited to share with you as you grow up and progress from birth to manhood.

I hope you find the wonderment in fish themselves. They are transference of the natural world back to you.

I can’t wait to put you in this onesie that your mom found for you. I can’t tell you how excited I was when she showed it to me.

Coolest wife ever? Photo: Josh Mills

I hope you wake me up early on Saturday mornings and ask, “Daddy, can we go fishing.” I hope to never say no.

I hope pictures of you grinning ear to ear line our fridge and I will never stop taking those silly, goofy pictures.

I hope you get to see the twinkle in the eye of Grandpa when he swings up and lands a big steelhead. It’s a special sight.

I hope you see the look of love in Grandma’s eye when you tell her fishing stories. She will be your best listener and cheerleader.

I hope the wonderment of a night under the stars on a river gravel bar is as fun as it was for me when I was your age. Shooting stars are an amazing thing.

I hope you find the fun in even a poor day’s fishing because after all, you were fishing.

I hope that you get to know the joy of a wet dog in a drift boat.

Murphy takes it in. Photo: Josh Mills

I hope you look forward to a weekend trip with as much excitement as I do.

Riverbank sunrises are a special thing.

Check your pockets on your fishing trips because I hope you get one of your mom’s love notes in them.

I hope you find that wild cutthroat are wild gift worth protecting and that carp are pretty too.

I hope that spey casting will be right up there in coolness as baseball and football. I will help you with both. The ability to throw a nasty curve and a drop spey lasers both take practice.

When a steelhead takes your fly, I hope it feels like a lightening bolt.

Listen to the stories of older fisherman, including your father. Take what they say as 50% truth.

I hope that a fly tying vice will be your artistic canvas.

Photo: Josh Mills

I hope you think that a new self bailing raft is cooler than a Ford Mustang or the newest iPhone.

For spring break, I hope you want to go to Bristol Bay instead of Cancun.

I hope one day you find the love of your life. Bonus points if she can double haul.

Most of all, and my biggest hope of all, is that I can share this all with you. My relationship with your Grandfather is rock solid because of all the time we spent together growing up, most of it either staring down a river or lining up the dogs to chase pheasants. You can’t buy quality time like that.

Fields and streams can be unbelievable teachers and can give you some of the greatest joys of your life. They can bring you relationships with the best people in the world. They can be the foundation of a honest and respectful life.